Thursday, October 30, 2008


“Hello madam, my name is Anil Gupta and I am calling from Bombay, American Express”
“American Express? I don’t want any”
“No no no madam, no no, I am calling from American Express, we are having here Mr. John Finnigan”
“John Finnigan…”
“That arsehole?”
“Yyyessssss…Madam, he is sitting here with me in this office now and”
“That arsehole, Where is he? Where did you say he was?”
“I am in Bombay madam, and he is working…..”
“Bombay?? In India? So that’s where that arsehole is….so that’s where he got to huh?”

“Madam, excuse me, I need you to please give an identification, if you can only tell us, please how does he look,….”
“How does he look? I’ll tell you how he looks, he looks like an arsehole because that’s what he is, he is an arsehole. You just pull down your pants, you sit on a xerox machine, you take a photo of that, you can put that in his passport, because he is an arsehole he looks like an arsehole, he is an arsehole”
“Certainly, certainly Yes madam, thank you very much……I think we can take this as a positive identification”
The above is from a speech of Gregory David Roberts in youtube, and is when he claims that he lost his travelers cheque and an American express officer tries to verify his credentials from his forged American passport. If fate doesn't make you laugh then you just don't get the joke.

Shantaram is a long and crowded real life story depicted in cinemascopic view and about a revolutionary personality: Gregory David Roberts, born on 1952 at Melbourne. A man who lost his ideals in heroin, a philosopher who lost his integrity in crime and a poet who lost his soul in a maximum security prison. He was named Shantaram Kishan Kharre by Rukhmabai, a lady at Sunder village in Maharashtra; also been called as Linbaba by Prabaker, about whom he says “no man who smiled with so much of his heart would knowingly hurt or harm another”

This is not a review, but my view on the book and is been partially extracted from novel violating the copyright for its own benefit, with only intention of making a tribute to it. A book about everything in the world which gives the richest reading experience, no doubt is a literary master piece.

When computers consume most free time and Orkut, GTalk and Youtube let us easily entertained, reading becomes a dying habit. However Books are windows to a wider world through words. Few books and qualities of some characters sink into philosophies of our life and in some way define our destiny. Shantaram is novel about one such living character and a blockbuster book.

The whole story begins with a woman Karla Saaranen, one of the reasons why we crave Love and seek it so desperately is that love is the only cure for loneliness and shame and sorrows, a city-Bombay; Cities are centers of constant and irreversible change and a little bit of luck-what comes from the earth always returns, what flourishes, dies away to bloom again.

In the early 1980s he escaped from an Australian prison at one o’ clock in the afternoon with an intricate plan meticulously executed where if he failed would leave him dead. He believed “Freedom is a universe of possibility; the choice you make between hating and forgiving can become the story of your life.” All his life he was caught between the rock of regulations and the hard place of the fugitive life, ironic to an IT employees life where one jumps from one jail to another.

He lived in slum of Bombay, may be the only one who wrote about the slum and had actually lived there. A dream is the place where a wish and a fear meet; when the wish and the fear are exactly the same, we call the dream a nightmare. The length and breadth of his wisdom acquainted through the journey of life said there is a river that runs through every one of us, no matter where we come from, all over the world. It's the river of the heart and the hearts desire. It's the pure, essential truth of what each one of us is, and can achieve.

The soul has no culture, has no nations, no color or accent or way of life. The soul is for ever. The soul is one. And when the heart has its moment of truth and sorrow the soul can't be stilled. He visits a poor and simple village where no one doubted or forgot that its treasure were its people - Sunder village with his new friend prabaker from where he learnt Marathi and Hindi. A man can make his way in the city with his heart and his soul crushed within a clenched fist; but to live in a village he has to unfurl his heart and his soul in his eyes.

Later he joined Bombay mafia, worked as a gun runner, a smuggler, and a counterfeiter, was on drugs, addicted to heroin (from where the best hashish in the world grown and produced in the foothills of the himalayas in kashmir), acted in bollywood, fought with mujahedeen in Afghanistan all while being hunted as his country's most wanted man is not what makes him adorable. But his unshakable optimism and a fierce determination which made him to write the book three times, a perfect example for what a human will can drive the human body to endure and achieve should be adored. It’s a fact of life on the run that you often love more people than you trust, for the people in the safe world of course exactly the opposite is true.

The major portion of the book is his learning from solitary confinement for a period of four years. There's a kind of luck that's not much more than being in the right place at the right time, a kind of inspiration that's not much more than doing the right thing in the right way, and both only really happen to you when you empty your heart of ambition, purpose and plan when you give yourself completely to the golden fate filled moment.

Life on the run puts a lie in the echo of every laugh and at least a little larceny in every act of love. The beauty and wonder of human being what it is to be!!!

All his life he'd been a fighter. He was always ready, too ready to fight for what he loved and against what he deplored. He avoided fighting until it came to him and then he enjoyed it.

After surviving the events dealt with in Shantaram he was captured in Germany in 1990 and eventually extradited to Australia. On completing his prison sentence he established a small multimedia company and is now a full time writer living in Melbourne.

If you reached here I appreciate your patience reading this and now to read the book you would require much more patience, its 950 pages. But if you get a chance to read I strongly recommend and there is something to be quoted in every page. Never mind if you are not an avid fiction reader, this story is being filmed casting Johny Depp, Amitabh Bachan and Emily Watson. But the book is a book and the film is a film—they are different art forms so the film will have an independent life.

Thanks to Deepu Chandran for referring and Prabodhini for lending me this Book.
Few links on the same topic:

Saturday, September 20, 2008

FW:FW: Please don’t delete this…

[I got this as a forwarded mail, just pasting it here for your reference]

Tina, a commerce student at Christ College Bangalore received this photo few years’ back with a forwarded mail. The content was this person is no ordinary man and is the most talented and upcoming writer in English, his blog will make works of Shakespeare and William wordsmith void, and so you have to visit his blog 100 times a day and forward it to 1000 people via mail, take an enlarged color print and put in your room.

The content of this mail is no different.

Later Tina fell in love with this smart boy, took life size color printout (1:10 scale) and put in her bedroom also distributed in her hostel, and forwarded it to many through mail. She was university rank holder that year, placed in an MNC with a starting salary of 6Lakh/annum. Tina dream Tomkid as her soul mate.

But all other useless girls in the hostel refused to put his photo on wall, rather kept under their pillow and sighed looking at it whenever they were alone in the room at night. Every single one of them had arrears that year and was not qualified to next year. Later they realized their mistake and followed Tina’s policy. All of them were university rank holders in the following year!!!

A civil engineer in Angola got this mail, told this is all fraud and put it in spam. That evening, while returning home his brand new Honda Civic ran into 18 wheel truck and was completely damaged. He did not even get the insurance amount. He was seriously injured, 27 stitches on head, both hands and legs had multiple fractures, his back bone was “Z” shaped and doctors told it would take minimum of 9 years to sit and 81 years to walk. He is 48 now.

A project lead in an IT industry only used to check mails, forward mails, again check mails, again forward mails and spent rest of day in cafeteria forwarded this mail to all in his address book. He read all blogs of Tomkid and praised him through comments. His project manager SHIFT+DEL ted this mail. After the appraisal that year project lead got double promotion and that worthless project manager is reporting to him now. He also bought Toyota corolla where PM is still going to office in Kawasaki Bajaj (Kick start - 95 model)

Another college girl in Bombay got this as a forwarded mail and treasured this, forwarded it to many of her friends with much enthusiasm. Before even completing her college she won Miss World Pageant. She is still infatuated with Tomkid and keeps a beautiful color photo in her hand bag. Her name is Priyanka Chopra.

Another youngster from Kerala received this mail and was completely impressed with Tomkid, took as many prints as he can and forwarded to most people. Weeks later he got Job in Arab, started blogging and his blogs even released as a book, “KoPu”. He did, because he believed in it.

Another fast bowler in Indian cricket team got this mail and envied on Tomkid’s elegance. He felt why such a great cricket player like him should focus on such ridiculous things and deleted from his inbox. The next day he got slapped on face by another player and was sobbing in front of thousands at stadium, only because he ignored this mail.

A small scale vegetable merchant in rural areas of Jamaica heard about the might of Tomkid from BBC. He sensed the value and put a large sized photo in bedroom of his two daughters. Next day morning all his vegetables in his warehouse turned gold. He is now the second largest gold merchant in Arab. That father had presented actual sized wax statue (Made in London) of Tomkid to his beautiful daughters and is the dream boy of two. “Kutty’s Fans Club” (KFC, but many still believe it as Kentucky Fried Chicken – how stupid!!!) is the fastest growing brand there.

There were similar experiences from western countries like US, Europe, Ethiopia, Utopia and Slovakia. There are rumors that 47 year old Barack Obama is publicizing Tomkid for winning next Presidential election. Bill Gates keeps a photo of Tomkid on his office table. This photo is the desktop wallpaper in Drew Barrymore’s laptop.

What’s more, Microsoft and Google is watching this mail chain and
If you forward it to 10 People, you will get nothing
If you forward it to 100 People, you will get a T-Shirt with Google logo on it
If you forward it to 1,000 People, you will get a T-Shirt with Google and Microsoft logo on it
If you forward it to 10,000 People, Microsoft or Google will hand over a check worth 100,000USD
If you forward it to 100,000 People, you will get a chance to dine with Tomkid!!!

So guys and girls, if you receive this mail today you are the next fortunate one. Take a print of his photo and paste in your room. Make his blog as your home page, visit it 100 times a day, put comments, forward it, admire him (girls can love) and be blessed. Remember luck favors the prepared. Do not hesitate and never be late. Now it’s your turn to define your destiny. Be serious in life, do something worth. I bet you will win for sure!!!
[This post originated from Berly Thomas]

Saturday, September 13, 2008

NEC’ians Diary - Part Two: Damara Damara Damm

[This is in continuation with Part One.]

Seniors in many technical institutes are privileged to drive their juniors’ nuts, may be to prove their might or to tame juniors to survive among the fittest. In NEC it was called “ROPE IN”. After all pain is the best teacher.

Time now at campus is around 6 PM, all parents left, shadows got longer, sunlight turned golden, two leaves on the pathway flipped up on a cool breeze. Another normal evening, calm before a storm.

All of a sudden there was a thundering roar from third floor and one guy kicked opens the door of A8 screaming:

“All first years come out fast, get ready in formals…” at a highest pitch one can have.

“Why scream? All we need to do is get ready in formals…that’s it…but why are they acting mad?”

“Hey you…Do you understand English? I am asking you to...” the man at the door to me.

“Yes..I..I am getting ready”

“Listen everybody… all of you must be there in front of hostel in another five minutes completely dressed in formals…Do you understand that?” to everyone in the room. A8 was my rope in room.

“I understand you &%#?@… get lost now”

“It would at least take a minimum of fifteen minutes to be in formals. But why are they in a hurry?” But certain doubts are better not asked. Surprisingly all were queued up in the order of their height just in five minutes. Here again I am the last one.

Here stands a senior hardly of my shoulder height scanning the entire 6’2”.

Me dressed in cream checked shirt, dark grey cotton pant, polished black leather shoes on white socks, neatly oiled and combed hair, clean shave; a bug free dressing and appearance on first shot.(Tom Cruise Look?) But this guy had a shirt seems to be made of banner, a trouser with innumerable side pockets, strings hanging all around, his hairs seemed that he had no bath during past week.

This guy had finally managed to find something missing in me. There was no pen in my pocket. An engineering student without a pen is almost handicapped, more or less like computer without a keyboard, mobile without a SIM or a physician without a stethoscope.

He had another reason to keep shouting at me and a smile. Why are these buggers keep getting on my nerve? Neither me nor my family had done no harm to him!!! I was asked run and to get a pen at once. Found a pencil with a steel cap in the room and kept in my pocket thinking he could be duped. He did promptly found it was a pencil and sent me a glare, took it out of my pocket and put into his. Another ten minutes on that and pencil was gone.

“What is my name?”

“What??!!....”For the first time in my life I heard somebody asking for his own name. Am I finally into a lunatic asylum? This is ridiculous.

“What is my name daa?” shouting at me again. I looked deeply into his face trying to find some similarity between celebrities, politicians and sports personalities, and none matched. The only similarity was to a monkey, his face had close resemblance to a monkey’s. May be he is the living proof that man evolved from monkey. Finally I had to answer “I don’t know…”

“Go find out, fast” everything they told ended with words “quick or fast” and I don’t know why.

Are these guys insane? Can somebody ever forget his own name and ask someone else to find it for him? Worst part is that how do you get the name of an unknown fellow. He keeps moving around and there is no way to point this guy. Finally I wrote his name 500 times only because I did not knew his name in advance.

I totally lost hope of revolting back when saw lady warden standing in the middle of basketball court giving guidance with a pessimist attitude to torture juniors. Oh god, it’s all pre planned to discipline the new joined. Now there is no escape, to survive “Be Smart, Act Dumb”. When the life gets tougher, the tough gets going and I should never surrender.

Every body in the queue was undergoing the same treatment. The seniors were terribly tensed and entire scene sounded a storm of rain on wood and metal roofs as around 45 of seniors developed such a high blood pressure on silly things. Thank god their nerves didn’t blast.

They had also managed to get all kind of trash to well treat their juniors; which included worn out slippers, torn clothes, thrown away footballs, basket balls, drum, broken utensils, cracked cricket stumps etc. All were ornamented with such items on formal dressing.

I was crowned with a broken football bladder and had a large broken drum. I bowed towards him, not because of respect; but he could hardly reach my head. He took two steps back smiled at me.

You pigheaded fellow…if only I kicked your butt you would fly over campus and land only in ITI compound” thought to my self. I should suppress such feeling within and do not show it on face. When you are in deep shit keep your mouth shut.

The first guy in the queue had a lengthy tree branch holding it to the chest as in Olympics, rest in queue were equally good but in different attire and everyone has to shout

“damaara damaara damm”
“damaara damaara damm”
“damaara damaara damm”
…dancing in a wild rhythm on the side parapet of pathway till canteen. It sucked.

This would have been ultimate entertainment for seniors and they would have been in cloud nine watching a bunch of idiots performing fun art for them. If only these people knew that a man’s might is on how good he treats his juniors to his subordinates.

Everyone had to take an oath that they shall never waste a single piece of rice, a single drop of sambar or rasam and shall eat whatever served in canteen with utmost deference. At the entrance third year girls applied butter milk on forehead as Hindu priests put bhasma, a vegetable piece from sambar as vermilion and served handful of rice as godly gift. This was disgusting.

Everyone marched back in same style and rhythm to auditorium for self introduction after dinner. All new joined had to get on stage and introduce them to rest of the seniors and perform an item. I had to tell my name, native, educational background. I was asked to sing a nursery rhyme, probably because there is a “kutty” in my name. Sang ‘twinkle twinkle little star” and my part was done.

Few of best scenes on first day:

Scene 1:
One senior threatened a boy in queue:
“Is this the way to be formal?”
Though he was in complete formal he still had a doubt on himself “is this formals?” He did not wait to clarify his doubts, ran to hostel changed to shorts and banyan.
Ran back to previous position and answered “I am ready in formals sir”
God only knows how that senior controlled his laughter.

Scene 2:
“What’s your hobby?” to a friend of mine with muscles all over the body.
“Body building” he thought this would impress some girls.
“OK, start now take 100 push ups, non-stop”
The whole body built so far was trembling and somebody has to support him to get off the stage. Even Arnold Schwarzenegger would sweat out to carry out the exercise of a week at a single shot.

Scene 3:
Another girl on stage was asked to do catwalk. She kept wondering what are these people asking.
“Do catwalk right now” yelled a senior.
The very next moment she lied down with hands on the floor whispering “meow…meow” from one end of stage to other. It was the sanctity of a village girl where FTV was not yet aired.

Scene 4:
(A boy on stage.)
“So how are you going to entertain us?”
“I…I don’t know”
“But you have to perform something”
He kept wondering.
“OK..Do you know to sing?”
“But I don’t know any songs”
“Do you know the national anthem? Sing that”
“I know national anthem, But only in Malayalam” there was a thunderous laughter from audience. His rational reasoning would be that he sees national anthem printed in Malayalam on the second page of all text books from his first standard.

The pain for the first day was about to get over by 10PM. Every one was asked to leave to their respective rooms. With a great relief everyone was about leave the auditorium.

Then some one inside ordered:

“Stop every one, get back to your previous position” Now what?

(This may be continued…)
Following is the notorious gang who tortured us and are absconding from Sept -2000. Madiwala police is in search of them dead or alive!!!
Abdul Khadar Jilana Sathar Betta Baththar Koya Akthar
Adolf Hitler
Annie Rose Rosario
Aswin Malhothra
Harris Williamate
Kaasko Yesko Dengko
Keerthi vishva
Kevin Arnold
Mc LeCroy
Mukul Anand
Nikhitha Panchal (i?)
Param Numeric
Rahaana Parveen Rumo
Rakesh Rathod
Rino Malvino
Shreyansh Patil
Thushar Driskol
Vishnu Singhal
I am (so is rest of my batch) thankful to 98’ers for a well orchestrated rope in; may be the last one of its kind in NEC. This made NEC life remarkable!!!

Well, at least there is something to look back and laugh. :)

Friday, August 29, 2008

NEC’ians Diary - Part One: Into NEC

[Disclaimer: NEC is the abbreviation for NTTF Electronics Centre; again NTTF stands for Nettur Technical Training Foundation. Things told in this blog are absolutely my personal views, opinions, experience and does not intend to degrade it in anyways. It’s just or fun. NEC moulded my career and crafted me what I am. I bow to my Alma Mater]

To be frank engineering was not in my dreams until people around injected that in to my brain when I was growing up. Entrance coaching classes were the time for noon shows, trekking Yercaud, explore the possibilities at Clooney girl’s school and to roam around the sub urban of steel city-Salem with my friend Abel. After all it isn’t fun studying 5 inch thick books of Math and physics for engineering entrance, not at all at the age of 17. All exposed in the result - my engineering entrance rank had five digit number more or less reflected how many took the exam that year.

But when you are down to nothing, god is up to something. NTTF was a boon for those who messed up their engineering entrance. You only need to have a little crooked mind (NEC’ians are known for that), a bank balance of 2 to 3 lakhs or has equaling property which you could take loan upon. Two rounds of entrance for NTTF, first round at Tellicherry, second at Coimbatore wasn’t tough. God’s grace I got through.

2000 August 15th, Tuesday afternoon, Bangalore:

I am sitting in the rear seat of Mahindra armada of my uncle thinking about next three years with new friends, at a new college in a totally new city. Man, it’s exciting. I am all prepared to advent into the world of electronics. Joining letter said all trainees should compulsorily carry the following items: Sky blue color bed sheet, sky blue color table cloth, 1 pair of white canvas shoes, 1 pair of black formal shoes, 1 pair of white socks, 2 pairs of khaki trouser and sleeveless banyans, a mosquito net and I have bought all these from commercial street.

But why are they so particular about the color blue?….aah, whatever

Almost every vehicle passed by had a tricolor of India on it. Hosur road was not crowded as today. It hardly took 30 minutes to reach Electronics city from St. Mark’s road. Now you probably need to have a helicopter to cover in the same time. Bangalore is no more a virgin.

There was this board “AISIN NTTF” on right side of the road adjacent to a deserted building (INFOSYS was yet to set) and the gates of NEC was wide open with security people in sky blue uniform.

“Can you direct us to the hostel in charge?” it was my father to a girl with navy blue uniform hands tucked to her shirt pockets at the entrance of lobby; and she directed us to the warden’s house. Navy blue wasn’t good choice for girls, pink would have been better.

“Do you need some help?” a senior student to me while I was taking out my luggage.

“If you don’t mind…” all seniors should learn from him. Where on earth will a senior pick his junior’s bags to hostel room? I thought. He wore a lunar slipper (a brand of Kerala), check shirt and khaki shorts.

“Are you a malayali?” was my humble question to which he answered a steaming look which meant “Is that important to you?”

Is anything wrong?” I asked myself and kept quiet.

Before getting into the real stories here is a bird’s eye view of campus:

NEC was about 10 to 12 acres, had an irregular polygon shape and shared its boundary with National high way authority, Infosys and Fanuc India without any disputes.

The most interesting and happening building in the campus - without any doubt was boy’s hostel. Three storeyed building had “l__l” shape, painted in antique white and saddle brown, each floor had 9 rooms blessed with bedbugs. A9 and B1 are my all time favorites. A wooden door for each had deep yellow color and transparent mirror window of about 10cm X 30cm, mostly covered with cover page of record book by the inmates of room.

All Katrina kaifs, Kareena Kapoors, SohaAliKhans and Angelina Jolies of the campus stayed in an adjacent building to boys hostel separated by a pathway and lamp post. For many who physically stayed in the next building had their soul always in and around this cute, tiny two storeyed girl’s hostel. Mine too though 7:45 wasn’t a good ratio.

Path way between these building lead to the terror of the campus – Lady Warden and was known as “LADY”. She stays with her family that could possibly represent an entire wrestling team and a straight stare of her could make you miss a heart pulse. Their house was located on the outskirts of campus.

Then there is a basket ball court and is a heavenly place in the campus for the following reasons:
1) Its geographical location-straight in front of girl’s hostel.
2) Its an arena for all desperate boys to prove their worth in front of their sweet hearts.
3) Juniors are not supposed to cross over the lines of court.
4) They wake up early in the morning only to mop this court.
5) There used to be more vigor in all basketball matches than in any other games and was considered as prestigious game of centre.

Canteen had a hexagonal shape, two entries, conical roof, walls textured with red bricks on outer side; tables made of marble block, and served food in a 10 inch diameter steel plate. Food was good enough to retain your life but this would be your last choice if only you had a chance to eat out. The best food served in canteen was breakfast on Wednesdays- bread/jam and boiled egg. I still remember Selvan mixing curd rice dipping all his hand till armpit.

Trainees were not in favor of washing cloths until it stinks beyond ones tolerance. Then soak it with 2 rupee surf excel sachet for half an hour, rinse for the sake of it at back of boys hostel, dry it on the strings tied with BSNL cables.

Next to this was girls throw ball court, the official game for girls and all boys thronged around when there is a match for what so ever reason!!!

Next to that is a vast football ground with a cricket pitch in the middle and tuck shop in one corner.

There were also a volley ball court between boy’s hostel and NRH (Non Residential Hostel), mud strewn tennicoit court, an auditorium called as “AUDI” for caroms, table tennis and badminton. AUDI had a dying Optonica T V where people fight for a seat to watch “Chitrahar” telecasted by doordarshan.

The Romeo-Juliets of the campus could be located at corners of canteen, behind auditorium, under isolated trees discussing their future honeymoon spot, tips and tricks of family planning, their first kid’s name etc etc.

Campus was plenty with trees and monkeys (no sarcasm there were real monkeys inside). 3 foot wide path way paved with concrete slabs diagonally connected between buildings.

Last but not least there were building which included office, administration, labs and class rooms and an IMPACT building and none had any impact. The only interesting place among all these is a dark room in PCB lab.

Candidates from the south Indian states Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Kerala and Tamil Nadu had the same idea of “Get into NTTF, enjoy for three years and get out with a job”. All play no work.

But then they never knew their worst fear was about to surface.
(To be continued)

Friday, August 22, 2008

Hello World…

How do I start writing in English? or how does anyone start writing in English?

Here it goes:

"Hello World" and this is my little attempt to blog in English.

Ten reasons why I think I should write?

1. Bipin -My room mate told I have a good flair in writing and I should nurture it, though it was after 4 pegs of Jack Daniel's Single Barrel I value that. God Bless you Dear friend!!!

2. I have nothing else to do in my apartment.

3. People write to prove that they know more than they do. I am no exception.

4. Erich Segal, Dan Drown, Paulo Coelho and Chethan Bhagat writes. Why can’t I?

5. Many say I write pretty OK in Malayalam-my mother tongue. Now being in America I should be thinking, dreaming and writing in English. (In the age of globalization idiots travelling abroad is no wonder)

6. Posting a blog is as exciting as getting through a test which you thought you never will

7. “Reading makes a full man, conference a ready man, and writing an exact man” was told by an English author Francis Bacon.

8. I can copy and paste articles here then say “Great minds think alike” (You should copy only if you know where to paste)

9. I write to express not to impress (Use SHIFT + F7 in MSWORD to impress)

10. Inspired by the books and style of Chethan Bhagat.

Following are few characteristics of mine which you possibly can ignore.

I am tall; it happened so;
lived 26 years Unmarried, 100% Bachelor;
Simple, Single and humble;
don’t smoke, smoking is injurious to health;
drink alcohol, Alcohol consumption is injurious to health, I don’t care;
son of a blessed couple, brother of two;
basic schooling away from home, in a boarding called SAVIO HOME;
hate Monday morning, love friday evening;
try to be funny, if you feel its horrible, sorry I can’t help it;
go to office not to complete my project, otherwise they don’t pay me;
did no graduation;
hate cooking, love eating;
was christened Thomaskutty, I hate kutty part of it.(My grandpa did this to me);
Renamed myself TOMKID;
Always preferred last bench corner seat in any class;
Engineering is not my passion but it’s a profitable profession;
employed in engineering service industry and job is to please customer;
Own no laptop, use NOKIA made Cell phone;
Starts a day with music, ends it with reading;
No matter what my salary is, by month end its two digit in the bank;

If you feel I better stop these nonsense, feel free to comment. Your criticism, appreciation, comments are ink to my pen!!!

Love you All…